


Painkiller

by Bottomfeeder



Series: The Ever-shifting Kaleidoscope of Cas and Dean [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Hell, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Prompt: Red, Unresolved Sexual Tension, fic challenge (unofficial): 5x10prompts, post-hell disorder, season 4 (supernatural)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2008-11-30
Updated: 2008-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-11 02:31:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/473499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bottomfeeder/pseuds/Bottomfeeder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has a better reason for PTSD than pretty much anyone on the planet who's still human. He could use a little reprieve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Painkiller

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was previously posted on my lj hard-death.
> 
> For this fic, the prompt was "Red".
> 
> I used the lj comm 5X10prompts, table #7 (colors). At least some of these color fics will be directly related to each other, but I'm not yet sure if they all connect, other than by theme. They probably won't all be posted in order at first, since I always jump around when I write, but I'll slip them in where they belong as I go.
> 
> Constructive criticism is encouraged and appreciated.

**Painkiller**

The screams of Hell keep moving through Dean's head. It's a rhythm not unlike an interrupted radio signal. It cuts 

 

\---in and out---

 

\---in and out---

 

\---in and---

 

"Dean."

 

Dean gasps as if he's been dunked in icewater. Opens his eyes to stare in the bathroom mirror. Castiel's eyes are as deep and cool blue as his voice. They still blaze with an insane light, as if holding the force of a white sun inside, but somewhere in the structure of his face is a deep, if subtle, concern.

 

His angel's going all human on him. And god _damn_ Dean for not being able to look away. Even if he wants to.

 

A sudden rattling has Dean almost jumping out of his skin. When he looks down and sees what caused it, he's grateful for anything that tears his eyes away from Castiel's. Even if his heart's a jackhammer in his chest. 

 

Dean glances up, meets Cas's eyes through the mirror again. Can't help it. He closes his own, soaking in the almost orgasmic bliss that is being freed from all that red noise. It's just clean silence for once behind his eyes, before he looks down at Castiel's outstretched hand. His own hand shakes like he's got fuckin' cerebral palsy--nothin' he can do about that--as he takes the offered bottle of aspirin they both know he doesn't need. He shakes out three to save face. Swallows 'em down with a drink directly from the faucet.

 

Castiel--the freak--watches this mundane little mud-monkey show with the same deeply concerned look on his face, now shaded with fascination. It probably says something about Dean, that he's getting used to feeling like someone's science fair project. He's pretty sure Sam doesn't have to put up with this shit from Ruby. He can feel the weirdo's eyes on the movement of his outstretched throat as he swallows. Probably studying for crib notes on the way human anatomy works, or some shit. He's struck with a strange urge to leave it stretched bare before the angel.

 

In some bizarre act of defiance that even Dean doesn't fully understand, he lurches down to twist the tap again, cups his hands and throws cold water on his face. It makes a splash messy enough to get some stray drops on that damn trenchcoat. Cas makes a confused sound that's not quite a gasp: Angel Boy trying to figure out if this is what startled feels like.

 

Dean turns around to face Castiel head-on, instead of just his reflection. Water's sluicing down his face, spiking some of his hair, even. He knows he's a grinning maniac as it drips into his open mouth, falls off his chin. Cas definitely looks startled, which is better than that frustrating Look of Holy Confusion. 

 

He shakes his head like a dog, spraying Cas with more water. Hey, that's what you get for not respecting a man's personal space. Cas blinks at a drop caught in his eyelashes, still manages to stare expectantly at Dean, as if waiting to see what he'll do next.

 

Hell if Dean knows, he's just acting on instinct here. But he does know one thing. The hideous red screams taking slices out of his head have gone away for now. Advil never worked that fast before. Never worked at all for treating Post-Hell Syndrome.

 

"Cas." A gentle impression of the dude's tone from earlier. Dean scrunches up his face in a mock-serious expression. "Dude," he says, patting Castiel's shoulder, "boundary issues, much?" He smiles to show the guy he's not pissed. 

 

Castiel swivels his head, hawk-like, from Dean's hand to his face, hidden warmth buried somewhere in his deep blue eyes. Dean can tell he gets it, kinda. Close enough. 

 

They'll work on the smiling thing some other time.

 

 

[End]


End file.
